


worlds spinning in slow motion

by closedcaptioning



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:26:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closedcaptioning/pseuds/closedcaptioning
Summary: There was something so sacred about this act, something so monumental in the suddenness with which Hinata’s fingers gripped his that it almost made Kageyama flinch. But he didn’t.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 14
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

His hand is soft, softer than Kageyama would have expected. It is warm and small in his own calloused palm. 

The darkness between the streetlamps could swallow them whole. The light slides through Hinata’s hair, illuminating him like a halo of fire, and then as they move forward, he plunges back into darkness. 

Neither of them are speaking. Usually Hinata would be chattering a mile a minute after practice ends, still so full of energy that he can’t help but jog out in front before doubling back to drive some point home by shouting it down Kageyama’s eardrum. Kageyama almost misses that, but at the same time, he can feel the shape of the silent air around this new thing between them, and it is so fragile that he is almost afraid to take a deep breath for fear of shattering it. 

Practice today was hard. No harder than usual, except Hinata had missed, and then missed again, and then hit the ball but wrong so it spun out of bounds, and his face had gone so red that not even Tanaka dared to tease him. When Coach Ukai forced him to take a water break, he had been breathing so hard Kageyama was worried he was going to hyperventilate. “Hey,” he’d said with a frown, “take it easy, okay?”

Hinata had ignored him, unscrewed his water bottle top and gulped like he was in the middle of the desert. Kageyama felt his frown deepen.

“ _Hey_.” This time, he’d grabbed Hinata’s arm. “Just relax, all right? A couple of errors _aren’t the end of the world._ ”

Hinata had turned, then, shock clearly written on his face, but Kageyama hadn’t let go. “It’s okay,” he said forcefully. “You’re more than okay. You’re _amazing_.”

And Hinata had looked at him for a moment, his mouth crumpled up, and then he’d lunged forward and buried his face in Kageyama’s chest.

Kageyama had first moved to pull away, but then Hinata’s hands snaked around him and he was trapped. So there was nothing he could really do but place his hands on Hinata’s back, carefully, like he was fragile, and rub small, comforting circles, the way his mother used to do for him when he was younger. Not until Hinata pulled away and swiped at his cheeks did Kageyama realize he’d been crying, and not until he was back on the court, calling _over here!_ did Kageyama realize that he hadn’t been worried if any of his teammates had seen them. He hadn’t been on the lookout for Tsukishima’s and Yamaguchi’s pointed stares and snickers. He hadn’t glanced around to see if Daichi and Suga were giving each other knowing looks. He hadn’t paid attention to anyone else, because he _hadn’t cared._ The realization should have been startling, but instead, it was like something had clicked into place, and his next serve was a perfect arc right into Hinata’s waiting palm.

They had stayed after everyone else had gone, practicing out behind the gym long after the janitor kicked them out to lock up. Bump, set, spike. It was fully dark before Hinata was panting, raking his hair, damp with sweat, back from his face, and when the light had vanished completely, Kageyama tucked the ball under his arm and said, “I think it’s time to head home.”

Hinata hadn’t argued, only sighed a little. But when Kageyama had finished changing, there he was, waiting outside for him.

Kageyama was surprised, but he tried not to show it. He fell into step with Hinata, quiet, expecting him to start babbling to fill the silence, but he didn’t. 

They came to the street corner and paused for a moment, and then Kageyama felt it. Hinata’s fingers brushing his, as light as the kiss of butterfly wings. He said nothing, but swallowed hard. 

A moment ticked away in the dark. Then it came again — that feather-light touch, lingering a second too long to be an accident. Kageyama waited with bated breath, and when Hinata’s fingers grazed his a third time, he uncurled his fingers against the back of Hinata’s hand.

Hinata drew in a breath, a soft noise in the darkness. Kageyama didn’t dare to look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. In tiny increments, Hinata’s hand was unfurling into his, turning so their palms were pressed together. Kageyama was certain Hinata could feel his pulse pounding through his veins as he interlaced their fingers as gently as possible. There was something so sacred about this act, something monumental in the suddenness with which Hinata’s fingers gripped his that it almost made Kageyama flinch. But he didn’t. 

They had crossed the street, and continued on.

They are still walking, now, and Kageyama has no idea where they are going. He feels a little light-headed. Hinata seems to be guiding, but for all he knows, they’re completely lost. It’s hard to imagine living in a world where he could be bothered by this, a world in which Hinata’s hand is in his and he still is worried about things like what time it might be. 

Hinata pauses. Kageyama halts next to him, and he realizes they are standing in front of a door. 

“This is my house,” Hinata says very quietly, like he, too, is afraid to shatter the silence.

“Oh,” says Kageyama in a moment of supreme eloquence, “okay.” Hinata is staring at him. Kageyama forces himself to return his gaze. 

Hinata’s not smiling, but he’s not scowling either. He’s just looking, scrutinizing Kageyama like he’s a riddle that Hinata is on the verge of understanding.

Kageyama feels strange. The whole night has been strange, and he might be about to say something — he’s not sure what — then Hinata relaxes and laughs a little, and his hand slips out of Kageyama’s. “See you tomorrow,” he says, and then he is gone, leaving Kageyama standing out on the street, an unfamiliar heat unfurling in his stomach.

It takes Kageyama almost an hour to find his way home in the dark, and it takes much longer than that for him to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Kageyama is not a religious person. If he was, he might have been able to untangle a prayer from the seething mass of emotions writhing more furiously in his stomach with each step he takes towards school. He is what some might call “taciturn,” what others (like Tsukishima) might refer to as “stuck-up,” and what, much to his chagrin, his mom has dubbed “shy.” Call it what you like. The bottom line is, Kageyama is neither a bleeding heart nor a coward, so he marches on towards Karasuno High with minimal dawdling and almost no soul-searching. But if he had been a very reflective person, and if he had been able to draw his subconscious thoughts up from the depths of his tamped-down emotions, they might have read something like this: _Please let nothing have changed._

He didn’t have to worry. Kageyama has barely set foot on school property when he is nearly blown off his feet by a concentrated blur of red hair and determined limbs. Hinata has a half-second head start before Kageyama is able to wrap his head around the sudden recollection of their ongoing competition and kick his own leisurely stroll into a sprint.

Hinata wins. Both of them are practically dead on their feet by the time they make it to the classroom. Seeing them stumbling in, panting, their homeroom teacher can’t hold back a chuckle.

“Where’s the fire, you two?” she asks, and both Hinata and Kageyama are too out of breath to dignify her remark with a response.

Volleyball practice brings no sudden realizations or drastic changes. Kageyama is so relieved, he gets a little carried away with his sets, tossing them faster and higher until Daichi switches him to practicing serves with Yamaguchi. 

He can’t focus. His eyes are drawn to Hinata, mid-leap, again and again. He is electric. Energy radiates from his every motion, vibrant and brilliant as lightning. Kageyama would not be surprised to see sparks fly when his hand makes contact with the ball. 

His hand. Kageyama remembers the shape of Hinata’s fingers against his own as vividly as he remembers the heft of the ball in his palm. Muscle memory. Kageyama looks at his hand, watches his fingers curl and uncurl, and feels as though he has somehow borne witness to a miracle.

“Your _Highness_.” Tsukishima’s ball catches him right between his shoulder blades, and the breath leaves Kageyama’s lungs with an _oof_. “Try paying attention to your partner for once.”

Kageyama swivels to glare at Tsukishima, who only shoots him a pointed look, before turning his attention back to a bashful Yamaguchi. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I was just… thinking, I guess.”

“Yeah,” says Yamaguchi with a strange smile, “Hinata’s really good today, isn’t he?”

Kageyama finds he has no answer, and his next toss sends Yamaguchi scrambling across the gym for the ball.

Practice draws to a close. Kageyama changes quickly, but then he realizes that he really, definitely needs to tie his shoelaces tighter, which is a lengthy process that requires him to take his time relacing both his sneakers. By the time he’s finished, everyone has left the club room. He’s left to lock up by himself.

But Kageyama steps outside, keys in hand, to find Hinata bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently. “Jeez, Kageyama, could you take any longer?” he complains, and snatches the keys. Before Kageyama can say anything, he’s locked the door and tossed the keys back. “Let’s go. My mom’s gonna be mad if I’m late for dinner again.”

Kageyama makes a strange noise in the back of his throat that is quickly choked off as Hinata reaches for his hand. Easy. Like he’s expecting Kageyama to already have his palm out, waiting for him. 

As simple as a high five. As simple as air. Hinata’s hand in his. Like this is what fingers were created for, like humans were born with hands for this reason only. Evolution racking up centuries in anticipation for the moment when Shouyou Hinata would take Tobio Kageyama’s hand and interlace their fingers and keep talking like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Like the fabric of time itself had not unspooled at their feet. As if Kageyama hadn’t been holding his breath ever since last night, and was only now remembering to exhale.

Over the next few weeks, Kageyama learns it takes forty minutes of walking to get to Hinata’s house from the school, and only twenty minutes of brisk jogging to get from Hinata’s house to his own. Usually it takes longer than that, though, because they spend countless minutes standing in front of Hinata’s door, Hinata talking like his words are overflowing and spilling out of his mouth, until his sister throws up the window sash and hollers for him to come inside. Only then does Hinata let go of Kageyama’s hand, and he does it like an afterthought, like he would take Kageyama inside with him to dinner if he could, would fall asleep holding Kageyama’s hand if he didn’t remember to let go. 

For those twenty minutes it takes to jog home, Kageyama permits himself to play the walk over in his mind. He is allowed to remember the warmth of Hinata’s palm, the soft squeeze he used to punctuate a point he was particularly excited about, the way Kageyama dared, once, to sweep his thumb up and down against the back of Hinata’s hand. Only for those twenty minutes does he allow his thoughts to wander into what might be dangerous territory — Kageyama imagines taking Hinata’s hand in his own in the middle of the hallway, in front of all their classmates and friends. He imagines touching the small of Hinata’s back, where his shirt rides up after a serve, feeling the curve of Hinata’s spine beneath his hand. Hinata’s arm, his elbow, the backs of his thighs, his ankles, the jut of his chin, the light in his eyes. These twenty minutes are dangerous, and Kageyama does not permit himself any more time. From the moment he steps inside his own house until volleyball practice ends tomorrow, he will not think about what it feels like to hold Shouyou Hinata’s hand. He will not think about what it means, or what he might want it to mean. He will not think about what would happen if, one day, they set off for home and Hinata does not reach for him.


	3. Chapter 3

Kageyama is driving Hinata _crazy_.

Sometimes he’s just Kageyama, Karasuno’s grumpy genius, Hinata’s teammate, a good setter and a terrible student, whose hair always makes him look like he just rolled out of bed. He’s Kageyama on the court when he shouts at Hinata for missing a serve, and Hinata always shouts right back, because he’s Kageyama, Hinata’s greatest rival. He’s Kageyama when he races Hinata to the gym after class ends, and collapses next to him on the stairs when they tie again. He’s Kageyama when he’s eating and he gets food on his face and he looks stupid and Hinata laughs until Tsukishima points out that, in fact, Hinata has food all over his shirt. 

Kageyama is Kageyama ninety percent of the time, actually. It’s that other ten percent that really bothers Hinata, because he’s never expecting it. He’ll glance over at Kageyama during a break in practice and then — Hinata can’t explain it. Nothing has really changed, but somehow Kageyama is _more_. It’s like the difference between the darkness in your bedroom and the darkness of the night sky. His eyes, and the line of his throat, and the curve of his chin. Everything is different, but somehow the same — and then Kageyama catches Hinata’s eye, and he is Kageyama again. Hinata shakes himself mentally and wonders if he’s going crazy. Maybe he’s not drinking enough water, or he’s working himself too hard. 

He convinces himself it was a trick of the light, a memory of a dream, or, most likely, it was nothing at all. And then it happens all over again, and Hinata wants to hit something or someone. What is Kageyama doing to him? Is it on purpose?

The worst time is right before and right after practice. They’re warming up, and Kageyama is doing the same exercises as the rest of the team, but Hinata can’t stand to look when he bends over to touch his toes. Watching Kageyama do lunges with everyone else makes his cheeks grow hot. Why can’t anyone else see how embarrassing it is? The way his shorts ride up on his thighs, and his shoulder blades are visible against the taut fabric of his shirt? Hinata doesn’t say anything; he just swallows hard and focuses on his own deep breathing.

When they’re playing volleyball, it’s easy to forget everything else. But after practice, when it’s dark out, and the light from the gym illuminates Kageyama’s silhouette as he steps outside, his eyes in shadow yet somehow bright in the darkness, Hinata _wants._ He wants something he cannot name, and he wants it so badly he finds it hard to breathe. 

But the moment inevitably passes, Kageyama falls into stride with him, and they part at the bottom of the hill with a “See you tomorrow!” (Hinata) or just a wave (Kageyama). And that is the way it is. Was.

Now Hinata holds his breath as he steps out of the gym. Now he waits for Kageyama while clenching and unclenching his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. Is today the day Kageyama decides this is babyish? Is today the day Kageyama will give him a look of disgust when Hinata reaches for him?

So far, the day hasn’t come. And Hinata doesn’t know if that should be a relief or a disappointment, because this can’t go on forever, can it? That’s what he tells himself as he waits in the darkness, breath caught somewhere in his chest between his ribcage and his pounding heart. Because no matter what happens the other ninety percent of the day, when Kageyama takes Hinata’s hand, everything else kind of melts into the night. Hinata melts a little too, but it’s dark and Kageyama can’t see. If he could, Hinata is sure he’d never hear the end of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

pls help i have a question

its important!!!!!!!!!!!!

not like last time 

actually important

**kenma kozume (nekoma** **/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

wdym important

its the middle of the night

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

and ur awake!!!!

**kenma kozume (nekoma** **/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

im pretty much always awake

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

THATS WHY IM TEXTING U

everyone else wouldnt answer me and i need help NOW

also u are smart!! i need a genius

**kenma kozume (nekoma** **/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

is it due tomorrow

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

is what due tomorrow?????

**kenma kozume (nekoma** **/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

ur homework? project? test?

what do you need my help with?

u do know the internet also never sleeps, right

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

its not homework

its not school related

well it kinda is

but not really

**kenma kozume (nekoma** **/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

volleyball? i cant go into my backyard, its 2 in the morning

so if you want a video or something you have to wait 6 hours

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

no no its not volleyball

its 

ummmmmm

um

umm

its kinda complicated

its just that

um 

have you ever held someones hand

**kenma kozume (nekoma** **/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

?

thats your question?

is this a dare or something

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

no!!!!! its an actual question

its not my real question

but i need to know first

**kenma kozume (nekoma** **/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

i held my moms hand when i was little 

and i was crossing the street

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

but what if you werent crossing the street????

and it wasnt your mom???

**kenma kozume (nekoma /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

?

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

like if one of your friends held your hand??

what would you do????

**kenma kozume (nekoma /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

i guess it depends who it was

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

what would you do if it was one of your teammates??

**kenma kozume (nekoma /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

why dont you just ask him

if you really want to know

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

BUT WHAT IF ITS AWKWARD

WHAT IF HE DOESNT WANT TO TELL ME

AND I MAKE IT WEIRD BY BRINGING IT UP

**kenma kozume (nekoma /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

do you want him to keep holding your hand?

or does it make u uncomfortable?

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

AHFASKFHWKDHFH

I DONT KNOW 

**kenma kozume (nekoma /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

ok its kinda late

im gonna see u this weekend for training camp remember

we can talk in person then

**shouyou hinata ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ**

(ಥ﹏ಥ)

i guesssss

**kenma kozume (nekoma /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ )**

go to sleep, shouyou

——————————————————————————————————

The bus ride to training camp is uneventful, as far as such bus rides usually are. Ukai attempts to keep an exhausted count of the number of times he tells Nishinoya to  _ sit the hell down before you fall and break your legs _ , but he loses track in the double digits. Tanaka’s not-quite-screwed-closed-all-the-way water bottle somehow ends up spilling all over Yamaguchi’s lap. An impromptu game of table football is brought to a swift end when a touchdown kickoff nearly takes out Asahi’s eye. And of course, there’s the bickering that grows steadily louder from a certain two first years in the seats one row from the front.

“Stop  _ tapping _ .”

“I’m not tapping!”

“You are. And your shoelaces are untied.”

“No they aren’t!”

“They are! I can hear the plastic ends every time you tap your foot!”

“I’m not tapping my foot! It’s just the engine making noise!”

“Dumbass! You think I can’t tell the difference between engine noises and the idiot sitting next to me? Your knee is going up and down like crazy! Can’t you relax?”

“You’re shouting at me every five minutes about some stupid thing! Why can’t  _ you  _ relax?”

“Stop  _ shoving! _ ”

“You’re shoving  _ me! _ Get out of my space!”

“I’m bigger than you! You don’t need this much space!”

“I take up the same amount of space you do!”

“No you — urf —  _ don’t _ ! Your legs are half the size of mine!”

“Let me—  _ rrg  _ — _ go _ . That  _ hurts! _ ”

“Idiot! Move your arm!”

“I can’t! Your huge legs are on top of me!”

“Then  _ move over! _ ”

“Jerk-face!”

“Moron!”

“Both of you stop it!” booms Daichi. “Or else Hinata, you’re going to sit next to Tanaka, and Kageyama, you’ll sit next to Tsukishima. No one wants to listen to your arguing. Is that clear?”

Hinata and Kageyama shrink into their seats. “Yes, captain,” they intone in sulky unison. Kageyama gives Hinata’s hair a last lackluster yank, and Hinata elbows Kageyama in the stomach halfheartedly. Tsukishima shoots them a look of death. From a few rows back, Tanaka lets out a loud snore.

“Do you wanna switch seats? You can put your long legs in the aisle.”

“‘Sokay. I like the window. And this way, you can talk to Yachi without getting up.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“...”

_ Crunch. _

“What are you eating?”

“Here. My mom packed extra. Don’t eat all the green ones, though. Those are my favorite.”

“That’s not fair. Green is the best flavor.”

“Okay, I’ll have these three and you have those ones. And then you can have an extra red.”

“You can keep all my orange ones. I hate the orange.”

“Me too. Hey, Yachi!”

“Dumbass! You can’t give her your  _ rejects! _ ”

“Ow! Fine! Tsukishima, do you like the orange ones?”

“Not after your sweaty hands were all over them.”

“ _ I’ll  _ eat ‘em!”

“Nishinoya, how many times do I have to tell you to  _ sit your butt down? _ ”


End file.
